On the detox menu: NO coffee, NO oatmeal, NO $12 lunch salad, NO dinner with friends and a glass of red wine. Instead, four glasses of "Fat-Burning Protein Shake" (aka some whey protein and psyllium seed husks mixed in water) during the day and for din din, three cups of mixed greens topped with one tablespoon of olive oil and one baked potato topped with half of an avocado.
10 a.m.: First protein shake. Mmm, yummy. Tastes like chocolate milk. Alright, this won't be so bad. 11:16 a.m.: Feels like nap time is in serious order and I'm ready for lunch � two hours earlier than normal. 1:17 p.m.: Time for shake number two. Still tastes kind of yum, but not as good as the first one. Headache is starting to knock on the door of my forehead. 3:13 p.m.: WHERE'S THE FRUIT? I THOUGHT I GET FRUIT?! 4:22 p.m.: Ew, shake number three suddenly tastes bad. Aftertaste coming on strong. Must. Wash. Down. 5:45 p.m.: Work is almost over and I'm super hungry but refuse to drink another shake. So there. 6:45 p.m.: I never eat dinner this early, but I feel the intense need to physically chomp on things. You know what's the best combination of food ever? A baked potato and avocado -- who would have thought?
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Day 2: "Finally, fruit"
On the detox menu: Four servings of fresh fruit and the delish salad and baked potato combo for dinner.
9:45 a.m.: Oh man, fruit is so delicious. I have two small apples and eat them with intense pride. 10:42 a.m.: Why am I hungry again? I got apples. Shut up Anna. 10:45 p.m.: I look jealously at my coworker's yogurt -- and I don't even like yogurt. Time for a peach. 12: 36 p.m.: How about half a cantaloupe? Don't mind if I do. 2:22 p.m.: Oh my gosh. I just ate grapefruit and a handful of strawberries and my servings of fruit are done for the day. 5:45 p.m.: I'm officially angry. I'm writing a story about "healthy fast food" options and find myself salivating over things I would never normally care about. Like peanuts. 6:33 p.m.: Finally, dinnertime. The baked potato and avocado are more of a delight tonight than they were yesterday. I think I'm going to go to bed soon though, just so I don't suddenly start gnawing on the only other food in my house -- frozen meatballs. P.S. The only people I know who go to bed before 7 are in diapers, young and old.
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Day 3: "Anna, please put down the champagne"
On the detox menu: Same as yesterday, ho fricken' hum.
My restraint is tested at an after-work event where champagne is flowing and little crab cake deliciousnesses are being passed around. I did actually feel less hungry today, though, and more light on my feet in general. My spirits were high too. Strange. I actually think if I had to do this again tomorrow -- which thank god I don't because I am a sneaky genius and picked the three-day detox plan -- I would be fine.
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Wait, what? This detox worked?
So remember all that snarky crap I talked about Jay Robb and his shady three-day downloadable detox? And the part where I knocked yuppie cleansers in general? Well, I think I am officially a convert. I go for my final appointment at the Murad Inclusive Health Spa and there's actually a difference in my skin, weight, and get this, my sense of self.
My UV damage went up a percentile point, my skin texture and pore size went up six percentile points, and my spots jumped ten percentile points. I lost six pounds -- which alone made me squeal audibly on the scale -- and overall I read happier with my weight, appearance, and balance of time for work, relationships and caring for myself. Murad esthetician Lori Cahitas tells me she is blown away by the amount of change I have seen in three days, as it usually takes weeks to see significant results.
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Time to "re-tox"?
The day of my final checkup with Murad (one day after my last cleansing day), I was feeling crazy high from my results. My co-workers, still in the beginning phases of their intense detox plans, were pumped to see that I had stuck to it, not cheated once (OK, so it was only three days), and that I had an awesome outcome.
This also happened to be the day of our company-wide BBQ where there were sure to be burgers, chips, and buckets of beer. I walked in, couldn't care less about the food (funny how losing six pounds can do that to you), and had a fantastic time. All the jokes that had been made during the three days of detox about the foods I would eat when "re-tox" commenced weren't that funny anymore as now I really wanted to keep the weight off. And now, one month later, I have. I'm also about to embark on an intense 30-day exercise plan, something I know I would not have been as open to before this experience.
So I'm a believer -- in three-day detox plans that is.
Twenty-one days? Not so much.
When I think "detox," I think torture. In a frantically dramatic fashion I picture myself trapped inside a grass hut yogi den for days on end with a bunch of highfalutin' hippies dry brushing each other between massive gulps of kale smoothies. Thanks, but no thanks.
So when my co-workers and I were assigned to follow and write about our journeys on detailed detox diets, I thought about ways I could a) come up with a really good excuse for not participating (Death in the family? No, I can't cry on cue. I'm pregnant? Nah, too hard to fake.) or b) find the easiest, quickest detox known to yuppiedom. Because really, who else starves for fun except yuppies?
Due to the fact that I am rational on most days, and that with serious consideration my vanity likes the idea of clearer skin and perhaps dropping a dress size, I chose option "b," which lead me to Jay Robb's "Fruit Flush" -- a detox promising to purge my body of toxins, help me "regain peace of mind," and (my favorite part) "lose up to nine pounds in three days." Three days?! I can totally do this, I thought, as I laughed evilly at my waif of a 97-pound co-worker Sarah, who signed on for a 21-day detox diet. And yum, I get to eat fruit. Let's bang this thing out.
